He felt the blood gush out of the snake’s heart, and the organ seemed to collapse, as if the heart relied on pressure inside the massive chambers. The small tear was a fatal wound. The heart tried to pump, but only succeeded in making the tear worse, and within a couple of seconds it stopped beating completely. The snake flipped backward, smashing the top of its triangular shaped head hard against the stone floor of the cave. Its body thrashed, coiling in on itself as it died, the muscles contracting hard before it finally went limp.
Zollin leaned against the stone wall, letting his own heart slow down before coming out of hiding. He wanted to shout in victory, and he also wanted to get out of the cave as soon as possible. Still, he knew he couldn’t leave until he found out what had happened to the dwarves.
Stepping out of the tiny nook took more nerve than Zollin had expected. Once again he conjured light, but rather than a flame, he imagined a tiny ball of fire, like a miniature sun. The spell was more taxing, but the light that shone throughout the cave was well worth the effort. He saw the snake for the first time and was appalled at the beast’s white hide. The head was buried inside the coils, and for the first time he noticed the musky smell of the wretched beast. He knew the snake creature was dead, yet it was still very close to him and so large that he felt a shiver of fear as he slowly made his way around the huge viper’s knotted body.
On the far side of the cavern he found the smaller room the snake had been nesting in. Translucent skins that had been sloughed off littered the floor, along with rubble from where the snake had used its bony head to enlarge the room. Zollin moved toward the space slowly, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thought he remembered sitting in that space drinking ale with Jute and watching the dwarves of the Yel clan go about their tasks. His heart dropped as he saw what lay among the rubble of the snake’s nest. Bones. Small, thick bones whose flesh had been completely removed.
Zollin knew that many snakes ate their prey whole. Then, once the animal’s stomach had digested the flesh of their victims, they would regurgitate the bones. Zollin saw the remains of dwarves that had fallen prey to the huge snake. Tears filled his eyes, and he hoped desperately that Jute, his friend and ally, wasn’t among the bones. Yet he knew that if Jute had been with his clan, he would have led the fight to defeat the monster. And he wouldn’t have given up until either he defeated his foe, or he died in the process.
Zollin moved among the bones, looking for any sign that he might recognize anything, but the bones were scattered. Some were broken, others had been ground into powder by the weight of the massive snake as it moved over them. He turned away in frustration, knowing that he had to go deeper into the caverns and learn the fate of the other clans. Deep in his heart Zollin feared that the growing sense of evil he had felt over the past few months was spread all through the dwarf kingdoms. Perhaps there were other foul creatures feasting on the dwarves at that very moment. He knew he couldn’t rest until he knew the fate of the people under the mountain, but he would need Brianna’s help, and they would have to let the dragons know their plan.
He hurried back out to the tunnel that led up to the clearing. He crawled through the hole, his mind constantly worrying that something horrible was coming behind him. It was irrational, but his mind wouldn’t let go of the dread he felt until he finally crawled out of the tunnel. He stood up, brushing himself off and happy that the sun hadn’t set completely. The forest was casting long shadows all around him, but he was out of the tunnel and felt better almost at once.
Then something odd caught his eye. Across the clearing lay the oversized saddle bags near a pile of firewood. Their blankets had been neatly laid out and some of the wood piled up for a campfire, but there was no flame. Not only that, but Brianna was nowhere in sight. What Zollin could see was a tree, but not really a tree. It hadn’t been there earlier, and it stood motionless near the camp.
Zollin walked slowly forward, his magical senses spreading out around the clearing and confirming his worst fears. The tree was actually a sentient creature, tall and thin, with gnarly branches and root-like feet. He couldn’t see eyes, but he sensed the creature was watching him. He’d been accosted by a similar group of creatures when he and Mansel had raced through the forest toward Ort City to rescue Brianna from the Torr Wizard named Branock.
“That’s close enough, wizard,” came a breathy voice that originated from the tree creature.
“What do you want?” Zollin asked.
“I am here to trade,” the strange being said.
“Trade? What can you possibly want?”
“Protection,” the creature said. “We offer your imp in exchange for your magic.”
“My imp?” Zollin asked.
A scream erupted from deeper in the forest, and Zollin felt a dagger of fear and hatred pierce his heart. The tree creatures had Brianna—only that didn’t make sense. She should have set them all ablaze. Fire was the one thing the tree creatures seemed to fear, if he remembered correctly.
“That’s right, you know what I speak of,” the tree thing said. “The fire starter, the dragon lover. She is your mate, we have seen this. Join our grove and we shall set her free.”
“Let her go, or I’ll kill you all,” Zollin said, his anger overwhelming his judgment. “I’ll burn this whole damn forest to the ground.”
“Not if you want her to live.”
“Take me to her.”
The tree suddenly tilted, and Zollin realized the creature was studying him, trying to decide if Zollin was sincere.
“We are much stronger than you think, wizard. Do not underestimate our strength. We are the keepers of the forest and there is no place in these woods where you can run that we cannot find you.”
“I don’t intend to run,” Zollin said.
“Good, then follow me.”
The tree creature turned and started walking away, its root-like feet rising high in a very awkward gait. The creature was slow, lumbering, and almost clumsy as it moved into the shadows of the forest. Zollin hesitated for a second, the memory of Brianna’s scream like an open wound, and then he dashed forward, following the woodsman into the forest.
Chapter 11
The day hadn’t been a total loss. Quinn and some of the other men from Brighton’s Gate had gone out in search of the strange creatures who’d attacked Quinn on the trail to Zollin’s house. They took dogs, which quickly found the scent of the strange creatures. They spent the entire afternoon tracking the creatures, but there was no sign of them. So the men had gone back to the village, and Quinn found himself once more at the Valley Inn, drinking a cool mug of ale and eating one of Ollie’s delicious meals.
Everyone seemed to be in good spirits except for Kurchek, who came out of his room for a short while to eat. His head was bandaged, but he managed to glare balefully at Quinn with his one good eye. Several of the townspeople, including the innkeeper, were people that Quinn considered good friends. Some still kept their distance despite the fact that Quinn had saved the people from invasion and helped rebuild after the dragon attack. Others were openly hostile, but few of those who held a grudge against Quinn or his family spent time at the Inn. For the most part, people at the inn were happy, friendly, and just a little drunk.
That all changed shortly after nightfall. Vickry came charging into the common room, the despair painfully evidently his face. His entrance quieted the crowd, but for a moment he just looked around as if he didn’t know where he was.
“It’s Laney,” he said finally. “She’s missing. Someone took her.”
The crowd was suddenly focused exclusively on Vickry. Buck sat the man down and Ollie brought him a cup of wine. She had to force him to drink it as everyone else in the inn’s common room moved closer to hear what had happened.
“She was feeding the chickens,” he said, his voice cracking with grief. “I heard her singing, and then I realized I couldn’t hear her anymore. And when I went outside she was gone.”
“Perhaps she’s
playing with a friend,” suggested one man.
“Or hiding. My daughter loves to hide and surprise me,” said another.
“There was blood,” Vickry said. “Blood on the ground and the chickens were quiet, huddled in their coop. I’ve never seen them act like that.”
“How much blood?” Quinn asked, and everyone leaned in to hear the answer.
“A lot,” Vickery said, his shoulders shaking as he began to cry.
“We’ll go back out,” Quinn said. “We need lanterns, and make sure you’re all armed.”
The men that had gone out in the hunting party earlier in the day gathered their things. Most of them had no weapons to speak of, just clubs or farming tools that could be used as a weapon in a pinch. Quinn had a spear, but if his guess was right, they were facing a pack of animals. One spear wouldn’t be enough.
“Where are you going?” Buck asked.
“To get Mansel and our horses.”
“You think he’s well enough?”
“Zollin healed him; he should be fine. And I want someone with me who has experience in a fight.”
“But maybe he shouldn’t get involved. Not everyone has your high regard for Mansel.”
Quinn looked at the innkeeper. Buck was normally a jolly fellow who enjoyed gossiping with the locals and taking credit for the hard work his wife put into their business. But now he seemed genuinely concerned, as if he knew something Quinn didn’t.
“What are you driving at?” Quinn asked.
“Look, everyone knows Mansel. He works with you, he drinks here, he can even be pleasant to be around when he has a few drinks in him. But no one knows anything about his wife.”
“Nycol? What does she have to do with anything?”
“Nothing at all,” Buck said. “But there are rumors, and people are on edge. You don’t make sparks in a hay barn, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I understand,” Quinn said, resisting the urge to slap some sense into the rotund innkeeper. “And thank you for letting me know.”
Buck nodded and Quinn hurried out. The sun had set, and it was much cooler than it had been earlier. Quinn’s joints protested as he jogged toward the little shack he called home. He was tired and needed rest, but there was simply no time for sleep, not when a young girl’s life hung in the balance. Not that Quinn held out much hope for the girl. Whatever had gotten her wouldn’t wait long to rip her to shreds. They had failed to find the animals earlier in the day, and now they would have to pay the price for that failure.
Quinn couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Buck was alluding to about Nycol. She was a private woman and preferred to stay away from the village, but that didn’t make her odd. Many of the wives of the men Quinn knew kept to themselves. While their husbands spent evenings at the inn, they were home seeing to the needs of children or doing who knew what. Why was Nycol any different?
He shook the questions from his mind and focused on the task at hand. They had gone out earlier in the day on foot, following the dogs, but now they would need speed. He needed his horse and hoped that Mansel would join him.
“Hello in the house!” Quinn said as he hurried into the little space between Mansel’s cabin and the stable where the horses were kept.
“Quinn?” Mansel said, opening the door to the cabin and peering out. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been an attack. Some type of animals have taken a little girl. We need to help.”
Quinn looked at Mansel, who glanced at Nycol. She stood by him, her hand on his arm, but she nodded encouragingly. Mansel leaned down, kissed her cheek and then came striding from the house.
“You seem fit,” Quinn said as he threw open the stable door.
“I am, thanks to you and Zollin. He healed my arm and head this morning.”
“I’m glad you’re all right. I have a feeling we’re going to need you.”
They saddled the horses as Mansel questioned Quinn about the attack.
“I don’t know what happened exactly, but when I rode out to Zollin’s last night some animals tried to attack me. I got lucky and outran them, but they had me nearly surrounded.”
“What kind of animals attack from all sides?” Mansel asked.
“My thoughts exactly,” Quinn said. “But that’s what happened. Zollin said he’d encountered them too, and that he felt they were magical in some way.”
“Great,” Mansel said.
“Yeah, I’ve kept that little tidbit to myself today. I took some of the men out hunting the creatures. Orvil’s dogs tracked them all afternoon but we didn’t catch sight of them.”
“And now they’ve attacked a little girl?”
“No, not just attacked. Her father was nearby. He said he could hear the girl singing one moment and the next she was just gone.”
“So how do we know it was these magical creatures?” Mansel asked.
“We don’t, but I don’t put much stock in coincidences. And whatever took the girl left blood.”
“So it wasn’t a person?” Mansel said, looking at Quinn.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “We might have some hope of getting her back alive if it was.”
“Damn!”
The men fell to their work, adjusting straps and making sure that the horses were saddled correctly. The last thing they wanted was to injure one of the horses because they were in a hurry. Nycol came out with Mansel’s weapons. He took the long sword that Zollin had fashioned for him. The weapon had a glossy black stone embedded where the hilt and blade met. Mansel called the sword Death’s Eye, and he was incredibly proficient with it. She also had Mansel’s spear and shield.
“Should I take my bow?” Mansel asked.
“It wouldn’t hurt,” Quinn said. “Some of the locals are good shots, but they’ve never been in a fight.”
“I love you,” Mansel said, as he leaned down in his saddle and kissed Nycol.
“Be safe,” she said. “And you as well, Quinn.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “Sorry to cause so much commotion.”
She nodded but didn’t respond. Quinn led his horse out into the moonlight before climbing into the saddle. When Mansel came out of the little stable he had his sword slung over one shoulder, his bow in his left hand, and a thick quiver of arrows slung from the saddle horn. One arrow was already nocked and ready to draw.
“Good to see you’re prepared,” Quinn said.
“Isn’t that what you taught me?” Mansel said with a grin.
“Damn right.”
They kicked the horses into a canter that took them quickly back into town. The activity around the Valley Inn was impossible to miss. There were dozens of lanterns, yelping dogs, and loud voices, all converging on the open space in front of the inn.
“Who’s in charge?” Quinn shouted as he reined up in front of the group of men.
Most of the townsfolk looked to Quinn in moments of emergency, not that there had been many since he’d returned to the small village. But he was a decisive man who kept his wits about him in times of crisis. There were other able leaders in the village, though, and Quinn had no intentions of taking the hunt slowly.
“I am,” said Bilburr. He was a farmer, but the townsfolk all respected him.
“Good, take the group out and follow the trail. Mansel and I are riding ahead of you.”
“Don’t you think we’d be better off to stay together?” Bilburr asked.
“Not if we want to save the girl. Chances are she’s gone already, but if there’s any hope of finding her before whatever took her kills her, then we need to move as quickly as possible. Mansel and I will do that. You all come along behind us.”
“All right,” Bilburr said. “Be careful, Quinn.”
“I will be. Can you spare some torches?”
Buck hurried forward with two long-handled torches. He handed one to Quinn and the other to Mansel.
“Good luck,” he said.
“Thanks,” Quinn said turning his mount and urging
it forward.
“Did you notice that Kurchek was with the hunting party?” Mansel asked as they rode toward the edge of town.
“I did,” Quinn said. “That’s another reason for us to split up, but I didn’t see any sense explaining that to Bilburr.”
They rode quickly to Vickry’s home. It was a nicely built structure, with a low, thatched roof and a wide door. Quinn could hear Vickry’s wife and other children weeping inside. The mother was wailing and the sound made Quinn’s heart ache. He knew the pain of loss. Quinn's wife had died shortly after giving birth to Zollin, and Quinn’s grief had nearly killed him. If not for the constant need to care for a newborn, Quinn had no doubt that he would have given up completely.
They rode around the small home and held their torches low, looking for any sign of what had taken the little girl. The blood was still wet and plentiful enough that it was impossible to miss, but not enough to know for sure if the girl was dead or alive.
“Looks bad,” Mansel said.
“It is bad,” Quinn agreed. “But we should be able to follow the trail easily enough.”
“So what are we waiting for?”
“Something isn’t right.”
“Of course not, a little girl has been taken,” Mansel said. “I thought we needed to find her as quickly as possible.”
“Just wait a second,” Quinn said. “I don’t think we can continue to think about these creatures as if they’re just animals. Zollin said he got the impression they were intelligent. They set a trap for me last night, eluded us all day, and now they leave a trail that any fool could follow.”
“You’re saying you think this is a trap?” Mansel asked incredulously.
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